~with thanks to T. Riddle for the inspiring photos~

there are color photos of budding nascent fruits,
an unexpected delivery to the eye’s inbox
exuding new youthfulness in
variegated shades of green
and

solitary ant traveler on a leafy space shuttle,
making its way, crossing galaxies
drinking from eye-drop seas
living off the land
and

life bursting out unreservedly asking for
no favors, nor recompense but to
breath, drink of soil nutrients,
to live to give back more
than it takes
and

to be chosen, plucked, torn from its environs,
to be the fruit of sustenance and a
delivery system to pass on its
****, tasty, enhanced flavors,
its seeded progeny the
chance to same
and

the ant travels on and about fearless,
its mini-size and sure footed body
leaping leaf to leaf to live and
to be fruitful and
multiply
and

multiple multipurposed prayers multiply,
of human origin, as humans blink at the
new-life miracles repetitious, wistfully
wishing every prayer, could be
answered thusly so lusciously
but

this it cannot be always, so we accept
as best we can, small proofs,
of regeneration, life eternal,
wetting browned, dark
soil with blotches of
salty damp-tears
encased within a
moment~eased
hopeful heart

I feel winter's grasp around the very being of my soul.
It twists and turns with a desperation and tenacity that uncouths my being.
Trying to squeeze out any pulp or sustenance whenever it's convienent.
Although already spoiled and soured and bitter, it must'nt stop for there has to be more.
There's always more to take, even if all the lemons are gone.
Go farther into the roots, tap into the sap that runs along its trunk and branches.
Life has given me lemons so why not take every single one of them for a glass of lemonade?
My leaves turn yellow with fear but I must continue to keep giving.
To keep producing lemons, to keep the leaves green.
For if I can't anymore then what is my use? Where shall I quench my thirst?
The gardener who provides water and shelter shall surely cut down my tree if it no longer provides and only takes space.
But what is a lemon tree to demand such intricacies?

Oh, I've been a shapeshifter my whole life.
Smile wide around bleeding gums.
And life didn't give us lemons,
didn't even give us that much.

When I got lemons from Life
They told me
to make lemonade
I tried and tried
But the yellow drink kept coming red
with my hands burning
from the cuts that Life left me with
Now burning with acid